Forward March
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Second place in the One Day Competition. March First, ten times over.


1994

"Er—hold on—Ron!"

Ron whirled in the hallways, stepping out of the way of some Hufflepuff second-years, at Hermione's voice. "Yeah?"

"Happy birthday! I almost forgot, here." She handed him a small bag.

Narrowing his eyes, Ron opened it to reveal some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and smiled. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," she said. "Have a good day."

"I will," he smiled, making his way to a staircase.

At lunchtime, he grinned as he first correctly identified, and then bit down on, a chocolate bean. "These are great, Hermione," he smiled. "Thanks again."

"You're—" she broke off. "Oh! It's your birthday? I mean, I gave those to you already—I...I'd...been planning on it, it must have skipped my mind. That I'd already given them to you. Er. Anyway, I'm glad you like them."

Ron raised an eyebrow as he flicked the Pickled Toad-flavored bean up into the air, catching it on his tongue. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Anyway," she said, "I have to, er...get to class. See you!"

1997

Hermione cast a wordless Summoning Charm to gather her books from her dormitory. As she sat outside the door to the hospital wing, she half-felt Harry's glance flicker over and over to her.

"D'you...want lunch?" he finally ventured. "We should probably—"

She shook her head _no_ before he could finish the sentence.

"A...all right."

It was easier to have _something_ to read, to do. She had no energy to move from the position where she leaned against the hinges, which she dimly realized could be an issue if anyone wanted to get into the hospital wing. Still, she flipped through the pages, making a few notes as she tried to understand the theory.

A coming of age, indeed. Her own seventeenth birthday had passed with little circumstance, but that was to be expected for Muggle-borns. Ron, though...He was a grown wizard, a wizard at war.

Her book flopped open to the wrong chapter. She didn't notice.

1998

"How late 'zit?" Ron blinked. His grip on his wand was light—while its tip touched the wireless, he had essentially given up on trying any more passwords that night. "Here, my turn."

"Don't be thick, mate, it's your birthday," Harry nodded, the Horcrux dangling from his neck. "Take the night off."

"Er—you—never mind, then."

"Course we remembered," said Harry. "Here, got you this."

Ron fingered the _Daily Prophet_, holding it out at a distance with obvious distaste. "Fetching want ad for me?"

"No," said Harry, flicking past the front few pages. "Just thought you'd appreciate a preview of the next Quidditch season."

"Seriously?" He gave an instinctive glance down about a third of the page. "Same old...they can't mess with this," he grinned. "Everyone's counting us out again, huh? We'll win. We'll show them. Someday."

Harry cocked his ears at a _splat_ coming from across the tent. Hurriedly, Hermione bent down to retrieve whatever she'd dropped. Without turning to face them, she called, "You're talking about the Cannons, right?"

"Of course," Ron said, turning pink.

"I...right," she said, approaching the others. "Here. Happy birthday."

Ron opened the small package, cautiously at first, then ripping into the remaining wrapping. "You...you remembered about the _bacon_? How long have you been holding onto this?"

"Just since Upper Flagley," she said with a shrug. "The bag helps."

"Yeah. It's, I mean, you're...anyway. Thanks."

2000

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the dress sense of the singer on stage in the Green Man. She gave a forced smile, tilting her head at the stage, and said "Happy birthday, Ron."

"Thanks!" he grinned, making his way to a table. Harry snickered; Ron did not catch the joke.

He took a seat facing the window, Harry by his side, so Hermione was left to redirect her gaze from the space between their faces. The music was impossible to tune out, although she had to admit just in a chord sense it wasn't that bad.

Still. "Out of all the bars in London," she muttered.

"C'mon," said Harry, "we went to that dodgy place for your birthday."

"And besides, we can't really go to a Muggle place, can we? If Harry gets plastered and starts to say something he shouldn't, Obliviating a bunch of night owls doesn't exactly seem like the best birthday activity," Ron reasoned.

"I suppose," Hermione said dubiously. "I'll try my luck with a bottle of mead. That shouldn't—what?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Next year, I'm bringing the drinks."

2001

Ron shook his head as he took a seat in the Muggle restaurant, blinking at the dim electric light swaying above him. "Explain this to me," he sighed. "You're the brightest—you-know-what—of your age—"

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione glared, in a way that suggested she wasn't specifically worried about her cover being blown.

"Well, you are. So why is it that _we're_ the ones still taking tests?"

"You're taking tests? I thought your boss waived that."

"Oh, not me and him," said Harry, "but the younger kids now are. So we're stuck with them complaining about it all the time. You know, maybe she was clever enough to choose a job where you _don't _have to take tests."

"I suppose," Ron conceded. "Right. Nettle wine?"

His friends shared a glance.

"I'm only twenty-one!" he sighed playfully, once Hermione had whispered the details. "I'm not old enough to have this many memories."

2004

"Happy birthday, Ron!" Hermione smiled, emerging from the kitchen with a cake.

Seeing his expression, she added, "What?"

"Er...You can't've been home for more than half an hour longer than I was," he said, suspiciously eying the flames that cycled through a spectrum of colors.

"I wasn't," she said coolly, setting it on the table.

"I've heard altogether too few bangs and shrieks coming from the kitchen," Ron grinned as he sat down, "and I thought we agreed we were old enough to leave my mum alone."

"Got it from a Muggle store," she said.

"The letters that walk around the edges of the cake?"

"That would be me."

"Brilliant."

"Thanks. Do you maybe want to—"

"—blow the candles out before it catches on fire? Yeah, was just getting to that."

2006

Hermione paced her house. It was not large, as houses went—she and Ron had been discussing moving into a larger one once they had children, and that plan was still on the back burner. That night, however, it felt far too large for comfort. Ron had been gone on the Auror mission for three days, and while he hadn't really expected to be home by his birthday, it was still unpleasantly quiet.

"Next year," she whispered, looking down at her stomach, "next year your father will—"

Hermione stopped short and clutched her wand. The lights had gone out. Trying to move as little as possible, she cast wordless protection spells around herself. But nothing happened for seconds...minutes...

Then she gave a nervous giggle and lit a _Lumos._ Slowly, she made her way down to the fuse box and restarted the electricity.

"Sometimes all we need is to turn on the light," she laughed. "I hope your Deluminator still works, Ron. Happy birthday, wherever you are."

2007

"And this one is from Rosie."

"Seriously?" Ron gazed down at the large, rather neatly wrapped box. "You're a regular little prodigy, there."

Rose burped.

"All right, well. I can take a hint." Ron unceremoniously ripped it open to reveal a new breadmaker.

"Given how long the old one was taking I thought we had to replace it," Hermione explained.

"Yes," Ron said, "I can see how Rose would be in such a rush for...warm bread to be baked on time. Does that mean all your books have agreed on when exactly she can stop eating that baby mush?" As if on cue, Rose began to kick in her high chair. "Here we go. Let's get you out of there," he said, ignoring Hermione's objections as he scooped the baby onto his lap.

2020

"Ugh!"

"What's wrong?" Ron narrowed his eyes as his wife let out a few more expletives. This was far from bad, as birthdays went.

"We missed the Portkey!"

"Er...what Portkey?"

"The one that was going to take us out to celebrate your birthday."

"Where?"

"Er...I don't actually know. Harry had it set up, he said it would be somewhere special for us—"

"Hermione," Ron cut her off. "Look at us. Our first dance was in my parents' backyard. Our first kiss was in the _Chamber of Secrets_, of all places. It's not like we've had that conventional a relationship."

"Yeah, but—"

"And you're a witch, aren't you? Look, I don't want to sound like I'm _asking_ you to take me out, but we can always Apparate somewhere."

"That's right, that's right," Hermione said, breathing heavily. "I'll just phone up Harry and ask—"

"Oh forget Harry's plan. Let's just _go_ anywhere!"

"I—" She paused. "All right, then." Taking his hand, Hermione turned on the spot.

2030

"G'morning, old man," Hermione said pleasantly as she paged through the morning _Quibbler_.

"Younger than you, still," Ron said with a smile.

She blushed. "Some things never change."

Ron shook his head as he made himself breakfast. "When I was a kid we never had many big parties—there were so many of us it'd get expensive if we really all had new presents every year, I suppose. Now I sometimes wish I could have those days back."

"It's just Rose and Hugo coming over, they want to see you anyway."

"I don't mean _them_, I mean the blokes at work. _Boss_ won't let it go without singing memos or whatever."

"I thought that was Audrey's game?"

"He'll make her do it, but we all know who's behind it."

Hermione sighed. "Well, you'll just have to embarrass him even more in July."

"He'll be the fifty-year-old-git who lived, he's used to the attention."

"I thought it was just that his milestone birthdays came last, so we can always procrastinate and say we'll celebrate with him?"

"That helps, yes."

"And at least you're not stuck with obsequious house-elves."

"There...is that."

They finished breakfast and Apparated into the Ministry together, Hermione raising her eyebrows. "You know...obsequious...it just means, like house-elves normally are. Wanting to work, that way."

"I knew that," Ron said quickly, and she couldn't tell if he was lying. "Here comes Harry, he'll have something planned."

"Good luck!"

"No, I mean, fend him off."

Hermione rolled her eyes, then kissed Ron full on the lips. Harry winked at them, chuckled, and walked away towards his office.


End file.
